


All I Want To Do Is Help

by RogueWolf



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Fingering, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Ironwood knows what he wants, M/M, Porn With Plot, characters actually talking, such as fucking Qrow into a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:44:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueWolf/pseuds/RogueWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m not trying to change you,” he says softly, closing his eyes. “I just want you to understand that you don’t have to do this alone. I know you call in for updates but never once, has it been a request for help. And…” Ironwood trails off and looks up at Qrow. Qrow, who’s looking at Ironwood as if never having seen him before. “You should be able to ask for help, without fearing that we’ll turn you down."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want To Do Is Help

**Author's Note:**

> RWBY V3E11 hit me hard with IronQrow feels, and then this fic happened. I'm starving (I skipped dinner),I'm tired, and my eyes hate me, yet all I want to do is write more IronQrow. This ship has got me bad.

They were at it again. Ironwood groaned and rubbed at his forehead, wondering once more why Qrow was still there. It wasn’t like he had a reason to be there, the conference had finished a few days ago and all the other headmasters and mistresses and teachers had left, anxious to be back home. But Qrow...Qrow had stuck around and taken it upon himself to turn his most capable specialist into a hot-headed child. 

They were constantly arguing, and Ironwood had had to stop more brawls than he’d like to count. He should have separated him, he had more than enough work for Winter to take lead on, but...while Winter Schnee was quite possibly one of his best specialist, able to take down scores of Grimm and was almost undefeated in all her practice spars with her squad, she was still young, and she very rarely had a chance to indulge in luxuries.

So if that meant that he only lectured them, well...it’s not like there was anyone else around to see it.

He’d gotten used to Qrow and Winter bickering almost nonstop, often about the silliest things. It was entertaining, he’d admitted to himself, but he missed the quietness of his offices, the way the very air would seem to still around him. Now, it was always filled with Qrow’s sardonic drawl or Winter’s sharp retorts. It wasn’t bad just different. And he still didn’t know what to make of it.

Ironwood shook his head. Winter and Qrow were adults, they’d settle things between themselves without his interference. Besides, there were reports he needed to finish, and he needed to draft a new proposal for the extension onto the barracks, and he had a holo-conference scheduled for tomorrow, and he should really review the agenda for it, and then there was a dinner with one of the owners of the largest dust boutiques in Atlas and-

“Would you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“That... _ thing _ . It’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ice Queen. I’m just standing here.”

“You know perfectly well what you’re doing, and it needs to stop. I’ve had enough of it and YOU’RE DOING IT AGAIN!”

Ironwood frowned and went over to the door at the back of his office. He had left it open to let the spring air in, and when he leaned around the frame, Winter and Qrow were right there. They couldn’t see him in the shadows of the building, but he could see Qrow slouching against one of the archways, frowning at Winter. 

“What is your problem? I haven’t done anything.”

“ _ I haven’t done anything,” _ Winter mimicked and then poked a finger in Qrow’s direction. “I refuse to believe that you have no idea what you’re doing. There is no way you don’t know how that looks.”

Qrow rolled his hands. “You Atlas specialist are always so wound up. Now you’re seeing stuff that isn’t there.” His bangs had started to fall into his face and he shook his head irritably, swinging them off his eyes. “I don’t know what you saw, because I didn’t do anything.” Qrow’s bangs fell in front of his eyes and he huffed out an annoyed breath. Ironwood saw Winter open her mouth to say something and then she froze, staring at Qrow.

Qrow was running his hand through his hair, slicking his bangs back so his face was clear, except for the few strands that were too short to stay up, and that constant scruff across his chin and jaw. And suddenly Ironwood saw what Winter saw, what she was so up in arms about. 

For Qrow had always been handsome, in a rough and tumble sort of way. But with his hair out of his face you could could finally see the bones under his skin, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the unbroken edge of his nose. For a hunter, Qrow was remarkable unscarred. But it was his eyes that stole Ironwood’s thoughts. Qrow had been frowning, but as Winter’s silence grew longer his lips had started to curl up into the smallest of smirks; his eyelids dropped, and he stared out at Winter from under long lashes, the barest of creases at the edges of his eyes. 

Qrow licked his lips and Ironwood was suddenly, painfully, hard against his slacks. “Enough,” he snapped, startling them both. Winter looks guilty, just like every other time he’s caught them quarreling, and instantly comes to attention. “Sir,” she says, “I apologize if we bothered you.” 

Ironwood nods at her. “At ease, Schnee” and Winter drops her arm and settles into parade rest. He ignores her for a moment and turns his head to look at Qrow. He’s settled back against the archway again, his arms crossed over his chest, and his usual smirk stretched across his face. 

“I suppose you want me to say I’m sorry too, right, Jimmy?” Ironwood can feel Winter’s glare. “Well, it’s ain’t gonna happen. I didn’t do anything.” They can all hear the  _ this time _ left off the end of the sentence. Qrow is a born troublemaker. 

“Schnee, I want you back on the command ship. You have the next forty-eight hours to draft a plan of attack on the Grimm in the northwestern sector of Atlas. You’ll have three squads at your disposal. Dismissed.”

“Sir,” Winter’s heels click together and then she’s gone, her coat tails fluttering behind her as she marches out of the courtyard. 

“You…” Ironwood says slowly, watching Qrow. “Come with me.” He turns and heads back to his office, not caring to check if Qrow is following him or not. He can hear the rasp as Qrow unscrews the top of his ever present flask and Ironwood grits his teeth, annoyed that Qrow feels like he has to drink in order to talk with him.

They’re finally inside Ironwood’s office, and he lets Qrow precede him towards the desk. “So, what’s this all about, Jimmy. Going to tell me to stop messing with your little specialist? I told you, I didn’t do  **anything.** ”

Ironwood doesn’t say anything, his fist is still around the delicate doorknob; he’s trying so hard not to crush it, warp it into a useless piece of metal. He closes the door gently, and turns the lock, the soft click echoing in his ears. He doesn’t turn to look at Qrow. 

“Winter can take care of herself,” he hears himself say. “She is a capable huntress, and an Atlas specialist. I have no worries what-so-ever about her ability to handle you.” He turns and Qrow is watching him, his head tilted to one side as he all but sprawls across the edge of Ironwood’s desk. “You, on the other hand, are a menace. You enjoy toying with other people, just to see what would happen.” He walks forward, one careful step in front of another. Qrow doesn’t move.

“You are one of the best fighters I have ever seen, you are loyal, you are brave, and you will not hesitate to save someone, even if it will hurt you.” He’s inside Qrow’s personal space now, his thighs just barely brushing against Qrow’s knee. “But when you get bored, you take it out on those you should be helping.”

Qrow doesn’t say anything, but Ironwood can see the way he’s tensed. “I’m not blaming you,” he says, “I know what you’ve had to do, to help secure the kingdoms. It’s a habit, I think. You’ve spent so long manipulating others to protect everyone else, that you don’t know how to stop anymore.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Qrow finally says. His mouth is tight, no longer curled up in amusement. 

“I think I do,” Ironwood counters. He moves in even closer until they’re actually touching. Qrow is warm against him, his knees on either side of Ironwood’s legs, holding him steady but not caging him. “You always take the riskiest missions, and you are one of the few people who are even capable of  _ succeeding  _ at those missions alone. But it comes at a cost.” Ironwood pins Qrow to his desk with a hand on his hip. “You can’t trust anyone when you’re alone, you don’t know who to trust. And when you’re finally somewhere safe, surrounded by those who trust you, you don’t know how to handle it anymore.”

Qrow exhales hard through his nose. “I rather think my nieces would disagree with you.”

“They’re family,” Ironwood disagrees. “You’ve watched them grow up, you’ve protected them, taught them. Their skill as huntresses is, in no small part, due to you helping them. You and them...you’ve always trusted each other. That’s a bond that can’t be shaken. There is love and trust and safety.” 

He leans into Qrow, letting his weight press him harder into the desk. “The rest of us are different. You will work with us, fight for us, but in the back of your mind, you always expect us to betray you.”

“That’s not true!” Qrow snaps, and now he’s pushing back at Ironwood, shoving him away so he can twist himself off the desk. Ironwood lets him, before resting his hip against the corner of his desk. 

“Maybe not,” he says. “Maybe not for Ozpin and Glynda, definitely not for Summer and Amber. Maybe, even, not for Winter...or me.” He waved a hand in the direction of the barracks and the town and the world beyond. “But for them? They’re just tools, chess pieces in your game of “protecting the world.” Your problem, Qrow, is that you don’t know what to do with those of us who care about you.”

“What? People like you?” Qrow laughed harshly. “You’ve been trying to discipline me since the moment you met me. How is that caring for me?”

“Is that what you think it was? ‘Discipline?’ I was trying to keep you from getting yourself killed, Qrow.” Ironwood’s voice is rough, and his hands are clenched tightly behind his back. “Just because you are the best suited for solo missions doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable. You put yourself in needlessly risky situations, you use yourself as bait, and you refuse help when offered. If I can help even the playing field, then I’ll damn well do so!”

Qrow’s staring at him, his mouth a thin line and his eyes narrowed into slits. Ironwood slumps suddenly, realizing that no matter what he says, Qrow isn’t going to believe him. 

“I’m not trying to change you,” he says softly, closing his eyes. “I just want you to understand that you don’t  _ have _ to do this alone. I know you call in for updates but never once,  _ not once, _ has it been a request for help. And…” Ironwood trails off and looks up at Qrow. Qrow, who’s looking at Ironwood as if never having seen him before. “You should be able to ask for help, without fearing that we’ll turn you down.”

The room’s silent for a long time, neither one of them willing to move or say anything. Ironwood closes his eyes again, unable to look at Qrow, afraid that Qrow will just turn away and leave. He’s not expecting the weary laugh, and his head shoots up and he stares at Qrow in surprise. 

“You idiot,” Qrow says fondly, and Ironwood can’t breathe. “I’m not afraid of asking for help. I’m afraid that you’ll say yes.” He pauses, as if unsure as to whether he should keep talking, then shrugs. “I know what you think...you, and Ozpin, and Glynda. You think I’m a wild card and it scares you.” He’s walking closer and Ironwood feels trapped, which is ridiculous, this is  _ his _ office, but he can’t move. He doesn’t want to move.

“You just don’t seem to realize that I can’t lose anymore of the people I care about, James.” His name...Qrow’s saying his name. “I have so few that...I can’t be....I can’t ask you to come out into the field with me. Because if you get hurt, if something happens? That’s on me, because you wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t asked.”

“No,” Ironwood manages to whisper. He shakes his head roughly. “No, that’s not on you. You can’t force us to join you, Qrow, even you don’t have that power. You can only ask.  _ We _ are the ones making the  _ choice  _ to help you. If something happens, that’s not your fault. And if you’re putting yourself in harm’s way because of that, then I will stay on the field with you at all times, until you get it through your thick head that I’m there because I want to be.”

“What if I don’t want you to be?” Qrow asks softly. “What if I don’t want you to be on the field with me?”

Ironwood freezes, his hands going cold. But Qrow’s not done talking.

“What if I need you to be here, in Atlas, where it’s safe? What if I need to know that you’re not going to be attacked by Grimm at any moment? What then?”

Ironwood breathes out slowly and reaches out to grasp Qrow’s wrist and tug him closer. “Then I tell you that even here, there’s danger. I fend off Grimm attacks on a weekly basis, I fight on the field with my men and I don’t hide behind the lines.” He keeps tugging Qrow closer until he can wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head against the hunter’s chest. 

“You know how I fight. I prefer to be up close with my opponent, always have. That means I’m always at a higher risk of being injured, Qrow.” He lets his metal hand, hidden behind his usual glove, rest against Qrow’s cheek, a reminder to them both, that he has not gone unscathed. “I know the risks, I know how deadly it can be, but I will never stop fighting, and I will never hide when there are people who need me.”

Qrow shivers; his hand is over Ironwood’s, resting against his cheek, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re silent again, the sound of their breathing the only noise in the room. It’s comforting, being able to hold Qrow, but it’s not enough.

“If you need me to stay here, I will do that,” he murmurs against Qrow’s chest. “But I will not stay here without letting you know how important you are.” He leans back just enough so that he can look at Qrow’s face. “No to me.”

Qrow’s still silent, but he’s watching Ironwood with a look Ironwood has never seen before. It’s thoughtful, but predatory at the same time. Then he smiles, slow and soft, and Ironwood feels himself smiling back. 

“Ok,” Qrow says with a quick nod. “Show me.”

Ironwood waits for a few seconds, giving Qrow a chance to back out, but when he doesn’t move, just keeps smiling at Ironwood, he pushes himself up off the desk to press their lips together. 

It’s gentle, a caress of lips really, but Qrow’s breath hitches. Ironwood tangles his fingers in Qrow’s hair and pulls him down so he can press their lips together harder without having to strain. Qrow’s lips are chapped, and Ironwood can’t help but nibble at them, licking softly until Qrow gasps out a breath of air and open his mouth. And then Ironwood’s inside him, and Qrow groans quietly, and now his arms are wrapped around Ironwood, pulling him to the edge of the desk so that he can inch his way closer. 

Ironwood doesn’t know how long they kiss, but when he pulls back his mouth feels raw and his lips are wet. Qrow looks unsteady, and  _ his  _ mouth is swollen, lips red where Ironwood had bitten a little too hard. Ironwood places the softest of kisses against Qrow’s mouth and then stands, tugging him towards one of the side doors. Qrow follows, twining his fingers through Ironwood’s and squeezing their fingers together. 

Ironwood opens the door and pulls Qrow into the small bedroom before closing and locking the door. The room itself is small, but that’s because the bed itself takes up over half the space. Qrow looks at it and then quirks an eyebrow at Ironwood. “Oh, shut up,” Ironwood mutters, and Qrow laughs. Ironwood glares and moves and Qrow’s laughter turns into an abrupt moan as Ironwood pushes him up against the wall, one hand on the slight bulge in his pants, the other pressed against his shoulders. Then they’re kissing again, and Ironwood thinks that he should have done this days ago. Because Qrow is letting out little whines and moans, his hips thrusting erratically against Ironwood’s hand.

Ironwood lets Qrow go, ignoring his whimper, and gestures to the bed. “This might be a little more comfortable if you weren’t covered in clothes.”

Qrow laughs again, but there’s a breathless quality to it that makes Ironwood’s cock twitch. “I’m not the one wearing at least three layers,” Qrow retorts. 

“That’s true,” Ironwood says calmly. “But I’m not the one who’s about to be fucked into the bed, so I suggest hurrying up and getting undressed.”

Qrow’s breathing sputters and Ironwood watches as his pupils are blown wide. And then Qrow is pressing against him urgently, hands touching everywhere as he kisses Ironwood. Ironwood lets him before pulling back and directing him towards the bed. “Clothes off, Qrow,” he orders. When Qrow just stands there, gaze fixed on the bed, Ironwood stands up and fits himself behind Qrow, one arm reaching down to grasp at Qrow’s cock. “I’m not going to say it again,” he says quietly. He squeezes Qrow through his pants and Qrow lets out a low whine, his head thumping back against Ironwood’s shoulder. 

“If you’re not on the bed naked in five minutes, you’re not going to like what happens.” He squeezes Qrow one more time and lets go. Qrow’s fumbling at his pants, tugging frantically at his shirt, but he’s on the bed in just a few minutes, on his back and watching Ironwood stalk towards him with wide eyes. 

“Good, Qrow….very good,” And Qrow closes his eyes and arches, his hands fisted into the blankets at his side. Ironwood just watches, enjoying the flex of muscle, the way Qrow’s skin looks in the dim lighting, the dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. Ironwood’s been half hard for the past half hour, but he can fill himself filling out, his own cock making itself known, and complaining about the tightness of his uniform pants. 

He unzips his pants and tugs them off, shrugs out of his overcoat and undershirt, and lays them all neatly to the side. Qrow’s watching him from under his lashes, tracing the mapwork of scars that bisect his chest and stomach and continue downward to his groin. He had been lucky; the attack that had taken his leg and arm hadn’t taken his “manhood,” as the medical staff liked to call it. But they’d had to reinforce his new hip and leg, so there were thin bands of metal streaking across his pelvis to wrap around his flesh hip to help anchor the metal all along his left side. It was...ok to look at, Ironwood supposed. He liked metal, but not everyone did. Qrow wasn’t saying anything, though, and he could feel his anxiety bouncing around inside him. 

“Beautiful,” Qrow finally whispered, and he reached out to touch the band of metal nearest him. “Fuck, James, you’re gorgeous.” 

Ironwood swallowed hard and crawled onto the bed to straddle Qrow’s hips. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he told Qrow. 

Qrow smirked and raised his hips, rubbing himself along Ironwood who groaned and pressed Qrow’s hips back down to the mattress. “I bet I feel even better,” Qrow said, grinning.

Ironwood fixed him with a look. “You are a menace,” he said. He kept his hands pressed against Qrow’s hips, holding him steady, and leaned down for a kiss. It was slow, purposely slow, and as Qrow shifted beneath him, he ducked his head and suckled at Qrow’s neck, biting and sucking until Qrow cried out. Ironwood pulled back, pleased to see the dark mark already forming on Qrow’s skin, before leaning down to kiss the other side of Qrow’s neck. 

He made his way down Qrow’s body, kissing and licking, trailing his teeth across Qrow’s nipples, sucking hard when it made Qrow shout and shiver, not stopping until Qrow was boneless and pliant under him, and his eyes were glazed over with lust. 

“James,” Qrow rasped, tugging at his hair. “James, please, please, please just fuck me please.”

Ironwood’s chin was in the hollow between hip and thigh, his tongue flicking out randomly to taste Qrow. He tilted his head back and glanced up at Qrow. Qrow was a messy. His pupils were so wide that Ironwood could barely see his irises. He was sweaty, and his hair was sticking to his face in loose strands, darker than usual because of the sweat. 

“Not yet,” Ironwood told him, and then twisted himself so that he could take the tip of Qrow’s cock into his mouth. Qrow arched against Ironwood’s hands with a shout, and Ironwood pushed back down, sucking harder and then opening his mouth to swallow Qrow as much as he could.

Qrow’s gasping now, little moans and broken “please” and “fuck so good” and his hands are tight against Ironwood’s skull. Ironwood hollows his cheeks, hums thoughtfully, lets himself drag his tongue and teeth up and down Qrow’s cock and Qrow’s shouting. It’s taking all Ironwood has to hold him still now, but Qrow’s begging and his hips are arching up off the bed.

“Fuck...James...James...I’m gonna, shit, I’m gonna come….James I want...I need you.”

Ironwood has never heard Qrow like this, unable to finish a sentence, and it fills him with pride and something else, something that has him curving his back and swallowing Qrow down until his nose is nestled in the patch of gray curls at the base of Qrow’s cock. And he sucks as hard as he can and then Qrow is screaming and coming and Ironwood is swallowing, the taste bitter and salty and it’s all  _ Qrow _ . 

He pulls off and wipes his mouth on his hand and groans at the sight of Qrow limp beneath him, his eyes rolled back and his chest heaving. He pushes himself off Qrow and curls up on his side, watching as Qrow gradually brings his breathing under control. 

It’s not long before Qrow is rolling over to face Ironwood. “That was...that was good,” he says, still breathless, and Ironwood chuckles. 

“It was. But we’re not done yet.” 

He tugs Qrow close, kissing him again, and then pulling the bottle of lube out from under one of the pillows. “Planned this ahead, did you?” Qrow asks.

Ironwood snorted. “Hardly. You’re not the only one who gets bored; I simply see no reason not to indulge in something that I find enjoyable.”

Qrow burst into laughter. “Yeah, that sounds about right. So,” he says, grinning, “how were you planning on doing this?”

Ironwood studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Turn over, hands and knees,” he finally says, and Qrow is eager to comply, rolling himself over, ass high. 

“Ready when you are, General,” he drawls, and Ironwood pokes his side. 

“Impertinent,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but feeling amused at the wide-eyed, innocent look Qrow gives him. 

“It’s ok if it takes you some time, I’ve heard that the older you are, the harder it is to get it up.”

Ironwood wants to roll his eyes. There’s the Qrow he knows and adores, the one who rambles when nervous, who doesn’t know how to shut up. Luckily, Ironwood has some ideas about that. 

“Come on, Jimmy, are you going to make me sit here all day or are you go-” Qrow’s voice cuts off abruptly as Ironwood traces his hole with a lube slick finger. He circles it once, twice, and then slowly pushing his finger in. Qrow is moaning, and Ironwood smirks. 

“What were you saying, Qrow? I think I missed that last part.” He pulls his finger out almost all the way and then pushes back in, fucking Qrow slowly. Qrow doesn’t say anything, just moans and grinds back against him. Ironwood obliges and adds another finger, letting Qrow adjust to the burn before stretching him. 

Qrow’s back is covered with a thin sheen of sweat before Ironwood decides he’s ready for a third finger. Qrow lets out a small yelp when Ironwood pushes it in but he’s stretched out enough for it not to hurt him. Ironwood pumps his fingers back and forth, stretching Qrow, and then suddenly he twists them and curls them upwards and presses and Qrow is crying out, his fingers scrabbling at the blankets. Ironwood relaxes his fingers, pulls them out slowly, then pushes them back to  _ press _ and hold and rub against Qrow’s prostate and Qrow goes wild, limbs jerking and voice choking off into little gasps and moans and half-vocalized cries. 

“James,” he pants, “James James James James James.” Ironwood doesn’t stop, only rubs harder, until Qrow is spilling across the bed, his cries muffled by his arm. And then Ironwood is slicking himself up to press into Qrow, and Qrow is crying out, “too much!” but he’s grinding back, because it’s too much and  _ not enough  _ and Ironwood knows. So he keeps going until he’s bottomed out and he can see Qrow crying beneath him and still begging him for more. 

“Are you ready?” Ironwood asks him, and Qrow babbles “yes...yes...please...I need it...James...please,” and Ironwood grabs his hips so hard he knows there’ll be bruises. But Qrow just groans and pushes back and Ironwood holds him tighter and slams himself forward. And Qrow wails, and Ironwood pulls himself out almost all the way so he can thrust himself back in. 

Qrow’s being shoved into the bedding, but he doesn’t care. He has one hand around his cock, jerking it in time with Ironwood, but he can’t keep up, so Ironwood wraps a hand around him, pulls him closer with his other, and then hammers into Qrow fast and hard, rolling his hips at the end of each stroke so that he hits Qrow’s prostate with each thrust. Qrow’s crying and moaning and whimpering now, loud enough that sometimes Ironwood can’t even hear the slap of flesh against flesh. 

Qrow grows louder and louder and then he’s clenching down on Ironwood and coming again, screaming Ironwood’s name, and Ironwood manages a few more thrusts before he’s coming inside Qrow with a shout.

They don’t move for awhile; Ironwood’s draped over Qrow’s back and they’re both relearning how to breathe again, when Ironwood groans wearily and pulls out. Qrow winces but he turns so that when Ironwood collapses next to him, he can curl up against his side, the metal arm and leg pleasantly cool against his overheated skin. 

He can feel Ironwood running his fingers through his hair and he sighs, relaxing into Ironwood even more, content to not move. He protests sleepily when Ironwood rolls him away, but he’s not gone long; he has a washcloth in one hand, and Qrow lets him clean him, humming happily at the feel of warm water clearing the sweat and come. 

Then Ironwood’s back in the build and he’s tugging Qrow close, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his face into the space between Qrow’s neck and shoulder, peppering the skin there with tiny kisses. Qrow sighs happily and cuddles closer. He can worry about leaving later, when he doesn’t feel safe and protected and loved. For now, everything’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this [post](http://roguewolfprints.tumblr.com/post/138954825398/twifairy-qrow-passively-doing-something-really)
> 
>  
> 
> This fic went **completely** the opposite direction of what I was expecting, but I'm ok with that. It's also the second time I've ever really wrote porn, so I hope it turned out ok.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://roguewolfprints.tumblr.com)


End file.
